


Home is Where the Hair Is

by itachiscatears



Series: Naruto AU Week 2021 [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cat Dad Izuna, Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, no plot only cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itachiscatears/pseuds/itachiscatears
Summary: Izuna returns home from a long mission to his cats (and his soulmate).
Relationships: Senju Itama/Uchiha Izuna
Series: Naruto AU Week 2021 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151513
Kudos: 11
Collections: Naruto AU Week 2021





	Home is Where the Hair Is

**Author's Note:**

> This is what professionals call _la deadline keysmash._
> 
> Written for:
> 
> Naruto AU Week 2021 - Day 7: Soulmates | ~~Free day~~
> 
> Izuna Week 2021 - Day 7: Your favourite Izuna pairing | ~~An Izuna pairing you have never created for previously~~

Izuna does not have to be a sensor to know when there is someone in his house.

"Can I help you?" he calls pleasantly, neatly removing his armour and mantle. "Because I am in desperate need of a bath and I will crush anyone in my way."

"It's me," comes a muffled but familiar – and long-suffering – voice.

Izuna finishes removing his various pouches and begins stripping indiscriminately on the way to his personal room, uncaring if anyone else is present and might see him. They will surely prefer his nudity over the hideous odour of unwashed clothes and old blood.

He slides open his door, opens his mouth, and shuts it. He stares.

Itama stares back from below particularly fluffy eyebrows. "Help," he says.

Izuna steps deeper into the room, crossing his arms and cupping his chin as he studies his trapped partner. "How _did_ you get yourself into this situation?"

"I forgot to wash my hands after preparing some fish as a treat," Itama says sombrely. "I've been here for _hours_. Please help. I have to piss so bad."

"Well, get up."

"I can't!"

Izuna circles him slowly, studying him from every angle. "You certainly can."

Itama moans as if he is in pain. "They'll run away!"

 _"Ah,"_ Izuna says in understanding. "Probably. But if you piss on my futon, I'll kick your ass."

Itama gives him a watery look. Probably the allergies, but Izuna cannot look into his eyes for too long before feeling, to his horror, _somewhat_ bad.

He sighs and taps his leg. "Come here, you terrors. Pspspspsps."

Tails twitch. Ears flicker. A dozen pair of accusing eyes peel open to glare up at him. He glares back.

_"Pspspspsps."_

One by one, mortally offended, the cats stand and slink from their human perch. Two dart out of the room hoping for their dinner. Another goes to lick themself in the corner. Three make themselves comfortable on the end of the futon, watching him as they knead holes into his top-sheet.

Itama groans in both relief and sorrow as he is finally able to sit up, rushing off to relieve himself.

Izuna gathers everything he needs to bathe and fills the big wooden tub with cold water. He heats it with several controlled fireballs, too desperate to wait for it to boil on the stove, and fills a bucket with scalding water. He washes thoroughly, until his skin is stinging from the heat and the rough treatment alike, and sinks into the tub of water with a long, luxurious sigh.

Itama approaches and hesitates behind the washing curtain. "Can I join you?"

Izuna hums generously and Itama slips around the curtain, dipping the bucket into the tub to gather enough hot water to wash with. Izuna listens to the soft rustle of clothing being removed and cracks an eye open in time to watch Itama gather his hair into a messy knot on top of his head. A few white strands, coarse compared to the dark side of his hair, refuse to stay in their tie and fall stubbornly over his neck.

Izuna watches him unabashedly: there is something about how Itama carries himself that makes him seem smaller than he really is. Nude, there is no way to hide the strong lines of his back and the curve of generous thighs. Izuna eyes round buttocks and reaches out brazenly to flick the closest when Itama leans on the washing stool to scrub his feet.

He jumps and huffs, turning accusing eyes on him.

“What?” Izuna asks innocuously. “I was only admiring your soulmark.”

It isn’t precisely a lie; the small black smudge above Itama’s right buttock, a cat of sorts if you squint one eye and close the other, _had_ briefly held his attention. He just happens to prefer looking at Itama’s ass.

Itama snorts softly and returns to washing, widening his stance when Izuna pinches and palms his inner thigh.

The tub is not really intended for more than one person, short and narrow, but they make do. Itama squeezes in across from him, their legs overlapping and feet balanced where they fit. Izuna leans his head back against the lip of the tub and strokes the delicate ankle pressed into his hip.

“Was it a very long mission?” Itama asks, voice soft and sleepy with the heat. The water engulfs him to the chin, lapping at his mouth as he speaks.

“Hmm?”

“You’re touching me a lot.”

Izuna pretends not to hear, palming muscular legs. Itama sinks lower into the water, tucking his feet beneath Izuna’s shoulders for leverage. He supposes they haven’t touched much lately; he had hardly seen Itama at all except for one lunch at the Senju main house and a brief stop-over to ask Itama to help Madara feed the cats while he was away.

There is a low growl behind the curtain. Izuna sighs and flicks water over the edge of the tub. Indra, undaunted, streaks through the curtain and jumps onto the tub. Water sloshes onto the floor as Itama scrambles upright.

“What if he falls—”

Izuna pushes Indra off the tub before he can jump in the water with them. He quite enjoys his delicates unmauled.

“I think he wants to be fed,” he says long-sufferingly. “How long were you stuck there under the cats?”

“Since lunch.”

“And you just lay there? You’re too soft.”

“Well, they only got on me because I fell asleep and they wanted to lick the fishy smell off me,” Itama mutters. “It was alright for the first few hours. They were purring.”

Izuna shakes his head and climbs out of the tub, drying himself briskly with the towel waiting for him. Itama lingers for a while, enjoying the water, but sighs eventually and climbs out after him.

Clean, Izuna is increasingly aware of his next essential requirement: sleep. He dries his hair and throws the towel over his shoulders as he pads into the house to feed the milling terrors. He dodges swiping paws and slinking bodies trying to wind around his legs, filling their bowls and standing back to watch as they all dig in. Satisfied they will all have enough to eat, he carries himself to his room with the last of his strength and falls face-first onto the futon.

“Don’t you want to put on some clothes? The futon is covered in cat hair.”

“My life is covered in cat hair,” Izuna replies, and lifts his head to swipe a cat hair out of his mouth. He sighs and accepts the nemaki held out to him.

Itama makes a valiant attempt at swiping the fur off the futon, but Izuna frankly could not care less. He settles down to sleep for the next twenty-four hours, nemaki tied loosely at his waist and hair dampening the sheets.

“Sleep well,” Itama murmurs, tucking the top-sheet over him and brushing two fingers over the soulmark on Izuna’s neck.

*

He opens bleary, stinging eyes with the knowledge that he has definitely not slept for the optimal amount of hours. He stares around the dark room, unable to find what had woken him, and activates his Sharingan as a strange whistling sound enters his hazy awareness.

Itama is sprawled out next to him, a black mass covering his face and another on his stomach. Indra blinks luminous, murderous eyes at Izuna from his perch.

“Bad kitty,” Izuna croaks. “You’re going to smother him. Get off.”

Indra simply glowers at him for a long moment before hopping off Itama’s face and thumping onto his chest instead. He gasps as if catching a sack of bricks, but somehow doesn’t wake. Izuna strokes sleek black fur, ignores the vicious swipe Indra takes at him, and tucks his face into Itama’s shoulder.

Before he falls asleep, he is aware of paws climbing his side and a ball of fur settling in the tiny space between his cheek and Itama’s shoulder. Purrs vibrate through his jaw and tickle his nose.

He sighs, content.


End file.
